


save a chariot ride a sun god

by kidcomrade



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Game), Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, [hoedown version of nicki minaj's 'anaconda' playing in the distance], i've made so many mistakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Abby: I think my sun god emperor boss might be into me, because I'm pretty sure I'M into him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save a chariot ride a sun god

**Author's Note:**

> FULL DISCLOSURE: i wrote this fic in one sitting, on a dare, overnight. i have not played this game and worked on snippets from the comics/the wiki/what i was able to gather from the person who dared me at 3 in the morning
> 
> at the time of posting it's 8:05 am and i haven't slept, but even if this is completely out of character i really hope you enjoy the indulgent cowboy boners, mkx fandom, because I SURE AS HELL HAD WAY TOO MUCH FUN WRITING EM

Kotal Kahn is a god, and that much is undeniable. The very idea of that, of being in the service of a _real_  god, seems almost ridiculous to Erron some days-- until he sees the man at work, at least. He has that kind of air about him; in the way he carries himself, broad shoulders squared and confident; in the tone of his voice, low, commanding. There’s little doubt that he’s earned every title-- Kotal can throw his weight around as emperor with little trouble.

All of that’s even before taking his imposing size into account. The man is huge, in a word. _Distracting_ , in a more embarrassing one: armor as scant as that doesn’t leave a hell of a lot to the imagination. He catches himself staring instead of listening to orders, his gaze drifting lazily along the bulky curves of Kotal’s body, more times than he wants to admit. (Thank God for the mask making it a little less obvious.) He’s got to be more professional than _that_ , right? He can’t be desperate enough to be lusting over his boss, especially not when the guy could yank his heart out of his ribcage with little more than an afterthought.

...Well. He can’t be open about it, anyway.

Kotal, regal asshole that he is, doesn’t exactly make keeping that much a secret easy. It’s like he’s got no sense of personal space. He backs off when prompted, which is unusual when considered with everything _else_  about an emperor and _actual god._ When he inches almost too close for comfort to Erron, though, it’s a subtler sort of closing in than the domineering hovering he’d do for intimidation, or interrogation, or the like. He touches him on the arm; his hand rests a little too long on his shoulder. Once, he’s nudged into a mission briefing by the side-- the way the hairs on his skin prick up at the contact isn’t something he expects. Maybe all of this is a cultural thing? Is he overreacting? Hell if he would know. No matter the reason, standing inches away from each other half the time is certainly not appropriate for an emperor and subordinate. Erron’s not enough of a fool to think it some measure of tenderness, or an expression of favor, or something like that, but he’s also not an idiot. It’s not for nothing, and he would appreciate a goddamn explanation.

He’s also a whole lot less respectable than he’d initially given himself credit for, which... helps. There’s a thrill in the pit of his belly as his mind races with possibilities. 

Thankfully Kotal doesn’t take long to find when he tries. There’s a pressure in the air around him-- the whole divinity thing, perhaps-- that makes him easy to pick out in their encampment, especially alone as he is. And his back’s turned, too. Having that first move is enough to drive Erron forward, suddenly emboldened--  


“Emperor.”  


\--and Kotal has already turned, moving closer with his large strides.

“Yes? What’s concerning you?” he replies, tone clear, booming, and even as ever.  


_Damn him,_  Erron thinks, mouth turning down into a scowl beneath the mask _._  “I was wondering about some of your.” He pauses, and presses his lips together. “Intentions.”

“What sort of intentions are you talking about?” he answers, coolly.   


They stand face to face now, and Erron tilts his head up to make for the several inches that come between them. He steels his gaze, betting his nerve against his quickening pulse. “I’m not sure how things usually go in _your_  realm, but--” One wrong move and his innards are going to be on the ground, so he stops again, chooses his words carefully, and begins once more. 

“Are you _expecting_ something from me, Emperor? Because I am still sworn to serve you.”  


Kotal advances. They stand chest to chest now and he’s gazing down, directly into his face. Erron does not move; he keeps staring up, daring his superior to keep moving.

“What are _you_  expecting, Erron?”  


Oh, shit.

His eyes dart away and he hums a sound that’s supposed to be nonchalant. It’s anything but. Maybe the mask will do the damage control for him. “Well,” he says, as casually (not terribly casual) as he can, “Not to offend. But I asked first.”

“I don’t like to waste my time on indecision and hesitation,” Kotal begins, voice dropping to a murmur. “I would not enjoy the power that I do now if I did not always take the most straightforward path to the things that I wanted.”

His fingers drift lazily to the corners of his subordinate’s mask. Erron exhales unsteadily and maintains the gaze. 

“I suggest that you do the same.”  


His eyes go wide. “...Oh, shit.”   


“I’m no fool.” He’s got the nerve to be amused at that break in Erron’s composure. “Did you think  _your_ intentions went unnoticed? Fortunately for the both of us, I am a man of initiative.” Kotal’s broad hand snakes from the man’s mask down to his shoulder. As he speaks, it continues lower, coming to rest on his hip. 

Erron takes the invitation and, in a burst of reckless bravery, presses his body flush against that firm, built frame. “Not like getting propositioned by a god is an everyday thing.” Maybe, if he allows his own hands to wander... he spreads the fingers of his own hand and reaches around, dipping to the small of Kotal’s back and drifting toward the curve of his ass--

“Stop there.”  


“Fuck!” Before he realizes what’s happened, Kotal is somehow _behind_ him, taking the arm of the offending hand and twisting it back behind him. “I thought this was gonna be fi--”  


“It will. But not yet. Initiative is one thing-- patience is another.”   


Erron nearly jumps out of his skin at the shock of cold metal at the base of his neck. He barely has time to register the feel of it, and what it is-- he hasn’t even taken off the damn headpiece-- before he feels warm breath there, the scrape of teeth, the heat of a mouth. The gasp he makes, overwhelmed by the sudden sensations, isn’t concealed this time. He feels Kotal’s mouth grinning against his skin, very, very close to his jugular.

“We will meet in my quarters tonight. You will know the right time.” 

Kotal releases his arm and he lurches forward at the new freedom before whirling right back around to face him. But it’s too late. He’s already walking away, steps as brisk as they’d been before their little ‘talk’. He glances backward only once, eyes tilted down to below Erron’s eye level.

....Oh. Erron casts a panicked look down at the bulge pressing against his trousers, and nods quickly.

“I trust you won’t keep me waiting.”

“After all that?” Flustered as he is, he’s got to laugh. “Like hell I would.”  



End file.
